


The Spaces We Share

by pagerunner



Series: the echoes of our choices [5]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: Episode 5, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, gayperion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys doesn't want to sleep alone tonight. Whether that means providing a friendly place to crash or something far more personal, Vaughn is willing to help. Rhys/Vaughn fic, takes place during episode 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spaces We Share

**Author's Note:**

> This fic fits with the continuity I've been playing with in The Echoes of Our Choices, although there's a significant timeskip. Assume that in the years between, the romantic side of Rhys and Vaughn's relationship became a somewhat on-again, off-again affair, with very mixed feelings about eventually siding with "off." It should also work fine as a standalone, just with the knowledge that for the purposes of this fic, these two have History.
> 
> Addendum: ...aaaaand yes, after I posted this fic, I started filling in those blanks. :) See also Iterations and Explorations for their backstory.

Rhys told him at virtually the last minute, this request about his sleeping arrangements, and Vaughn wasn’t sure if it was a late change of mind or the result of a long effort at getting up the nerve. _I don’t think I want a room by myself,_ he said. _Do you have enough crash space at yours?_

And it was such a reflex to say yes—after years of rooming together, couch-surfing before that, occasionally…other things…after that—that Vaughn didn’t immediately consider that there might be a few other reasons for Rhys not wanting to sleep alone.

That thought came later, long after Vaughn led Rhys to his own room at the base. It wasn’t much, he knew that. But there was still a couch and table and an actual bed, comfortable lights, even a small rug to soften the metal grating underfoot, and the bathroom worked, which was more than could be said for most of the western half of the camp. They were still working on that. Vaughn’s main indulgence here was really the window he’d built into a broken wall, one that afforded a decent view of the sky. Having a room on Helios, or what was left of it, that _didn’t_ show a starscape at least part of the time? That wouldn’t have felt like home at all.

There were, he admitted, a few things from his old life he didn’t want to lose. And one of those was standing by the window now, staring up at the sky.

Rhys looked oddly pensive there, almost uneasy. But he’d also toed off his shoes already and was standing there in his stocking feet—blue and green stripes today, Vaughn noticed. That familiar touch at least made it feel like _some_ part of the universe was back in order.

“Nice spot you’ve got,” Rhys said, actually sounding honest about it. “What did this room used to be, anyway?”

“You know, I’m not even sure. Might have been an office. A seriously unimpressive office. Or a storage room. I still haven’t figured out what the secret-passage thing was about.”

“Secret passage?”

Vaughn pointed. “Behind the curtain over there. Doesn’t go anywhere now; it caved in in the crash. But there were some _interesting_ warning signs on it. Like, _biohazard._ Instant death.” He shrugged. “I use it as a closet.”

Rhys stared, then shook with silent laughter. “Oh my God, Vaughn.”

Vaughn was grinning, too. “You totally just fell for that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Vaughn was about to make another joke—something along the lines of _it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen for me—_ but then Rhys tugged his jacket off and flung it over the arm of the couch, already making himself at home. Thus unencumbered, he started working on the buttons of his vest. Vaughn went quiet and just watched. That new robotic hand was definitely more deft than the old one, and he suddenly couldn’t help but remember a few awkward, if ultimately worthwhile, escapades with buttons way back when.

And what a chain of memories _that_ was.

Vaughn blushed at the sudden flood of imagery. Out of old, painful reflex, though, he pushed it aside. He had to keep things in perspective. After all, he and Rhys had never _quite_ been a thing, officially. They’d come close, more than once, but somehow they kept backing away to safer places whenever it got too intense. Vaughn suspected they’d both been afraid they’d break too many important things if they slipped up. Besides, Hyperion was hardly the sort of place that treated committed relationships as a virtue. It was more the sort that used sex as a strategically wielded tool. Rhys had tried not to get too tangled up in that game—he had his own ideas of how to get ahead—but he’d still cracked one too many jokes about “leveraging synergies” with someone for Vaughn to have any illusions on that point.

Still, Rhys had always genuinely cared about Vaughn. He’d always been there, was always close, hadn’t ever stopped being a friend. And there had been a few private moments—more than just _moments,_ really—that had always felt real. Right about now, Vaughn was thinking of all of them.

That admittedly made it difficult to stay steady when Rhys interrupted his own de-robing with, “So…do you share this room with anyone, usually?” He paused, looking sheepish. “I should have asked.”

Vaughn, in turn, coughed. “Um. No. There’s no…body else.” He wasn’t sure if he was about to say _roommate_ or _partner_ or _boyfriend_ or what, so he left it generic. “I haven’t really had the time to figure that out. I’ve been too busy. And it’s been nice having some private space at the end of the day, really. Folks around here can get…needy.”

Rhys cracked a smile. “I can see that.” He popped another button. “Glad I’m not intruding, anyway.”

“No, that’s…that’s fine.” Vaughn watched as Rhys pulled the vest off, momentarily distracted by the fabric underneath. “Damn. Is that actual silk? Haven’t seen _that_ in a while.”

Rhys looked down at his shirt. “Oh, yeah. I kinda raided Atlas for the best stuff they had, not gonna lie.” Chin still lowered, he raised his gaze to meet Vaughn’s. “You like?”

Oh. _Oh._ Okay, then; flirting was definitely back on the menu. Even if there was still a hint of nervous tension in Rhys’ posture that Vaughn couldn’t place. He smiled anyway, letting himself feel the rush this time instead of tamping it down. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, it looks good.”

It did, too. The sleek black shirt practically clung, it was fitted so closely, and it very nearly hid less than the undone collar did. Vaughn watched the play of Rhys’ muscles as he tossed the vest aside, then had to turn aside for a second to collect himself.

Then again, he could hardly point fingers at Rhys for showing off. He’d been walking around all day mostly bare-chested, after all, and he’d certainly caught Rhys looking once or twice.

Well, then.

Vaughn went over to the curtained alcove, which when all was said and done actually _was_ a closet, and pulled off his boots, tugged off his belt, basically undressed completely except for his trousers, loose now and comfortable around his hips. He took a deep breath, then began talking as he folded things. He was doing his best not to make this look like some sort of strip tease—not that he could do one anyway without stumbling all over himself. Even though stripping was still pretty much what he was getting at.

“Must be nice taking on a company with those kinds of assets,” he said, as casually as he could. “We’ve been scrounging up clothes and stuff from wherever we can, but…it’s not like we’re not getting anything expertly tailored around here, you know?” He stepped back out into the center of the floor, rather proud of his timing. “Maybe you could hook me up?”

Rhys’ eyes widened, his gaze fixing squarely on Vaughn’s torso. At least until it dropped lower. “Sure, but I don’t know,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You’re kinda doing all right without the help.”

“Hah. Still. Some kinds of hook-ups are better with help.”

Even as he said it, he felt amazed at himself. That went double for Rhys. If his eyes had been wide and bright before, the golden glow of his ECHO eye was downright luminous now.

“Um, wow, Vaughn,” he said, laughing a little. “When did you get this confident, exactly?”

Vaughn laughed, too. The nervousness in it belied Rhys’ statement, but he wasn’t backing down, either. “Oh, I’m still working on that. But…y’know. Pandora. Guess I’m getting used to it.”

Rhys didn’t say anything. He stepped closer instead. Vaughn wondered what he might do first, wondered what that look in his eyes was about. But slowly Rhys reached up, his long fingers finding Vaughn’s hair tie. After a moment of negotiation and an accidental tug that felt far better than it should have, he loosened Vaughn’s hair and hesitantly began combing it out with his fingers. Vaughn hummed softly, slowly growing warm in deep places.

“In case it still matters,” Rhys said quietly, “I like it.”

There were a million possible answers to that one, chief among them being _of course it still matters, Rhys, it never stopped mattering,_ but somehow what came out of his mouth was, “Then shut up and kiss me.”

Rhys had no smart answer for that. He simply did as he was told.

And oh, Vaughn remembered this, he couldn’t have forgotten it: that familiar pull in his neck as he angled up to meet Rhys, the warmth of Rhys’ hand cradling one side of his face and the harder, unnervingly strong grasp of his robotic fingers on the other. He remembered the scent of Rhys’ skin, the way it felt when Rhys moaned against his mouth, undeniably eager. But this was subtly different, too. Maybe it was Vaughn’s own initiative changing the balance. Maybe it was something else.

Because Rhys was trembling, he could feel it, and it wasn’t only with anticipation.

Vaughn grasped him around the waist and started maneuvering him, gently but firmly, toward the bed. The way Rhys’ hand was trailing down to touch his neck and his chest wasn’t making it any easier to simply sit him down, not lay him out and completely have at it, but he tried.

“Rhys,” he murmured, still not letting go. “You good?”

There was a small, questioning noise. Rhys pulled back from the kiss enough to meet Vaughn’s eyes, and _God,_ there was something about the intensity of that new eye that was such a turn-on.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Rhys said, sliding one hand down Vaughn’s side. Vaughn gasped; he couldn’t help it. “It’s just…new, again.” He smiled suddenly. “The beard’s different.”

“Hah. Um. Good different, or bad different…?”

Rhys bent close again, nuzzling a little. “ _Very_ manly.”

“Oh my God, Rhys.”

Rhys’ chuckle was something wonderful, something Vaughn had missed _so much_ , at least until a nervous undercurrent crept in, like another thought had bubbled back up from beneath. “It’s just, um,” Rhys said. “I haven’t done this since, um, since Jack—“

Something about that sentence made Vaughn suddenly uneasy, and it didn’t exactly help when Rhys clarified.

“—because I knew he’d _be_ there _,_ watching, or mocking, or—I don’t know, I just keep expecting…”

Vaughn’s stomach dropped at the way Rhys tensed up, darting an involuntary, anxious glance over his shoulder like someone might be there. “Hey. Hey. He’s not…he’s gone, Rhys. He’s not here.”

“I know.”

The whisper had no life in it, none at all. Vaughn reached up, brushing Rhys’ hair back from his forehead, and his thumb traced over the new data port. It was hard to even imagine what Rhys was feeling, but Vaughn thought he had some idea. Jack had been in Rhys’ head all that time. What was the difference between those persistent whispers and the memories and fears he had now, really? It would all sound the same.

In the face of that, he had to do something. Vaughn rose up just enough to kiss Rhys’ temple and say into his ear, “ _I’m_ here.”

Rhys made a sound like mingled pain, relief, and desire all at once. The instant Vaughn settled back down, he found himself being pulled into a tight, tight hug, one he returned without question.

Especially because he was also starting to understand how long Rhys had spent by himself out there at Atlas, with those same memories haunting him. No _wonder_ he didn’t want to sleep alone.

Vaughn took the deepest breath he could under the circumstances, gently smoothing one hand up and down Rhys’ back. For a while, that was all they did: they just held on to each other. No matter how reassuring Vaughn was trying to be, though, other ideas slowly crept in. The silk, warm from Rhys’ body, was such a slight barrier that it just felt like a tease. 

“Want to get the rest of this off?” he asked at last, and he watched as Rhys’ lips parted, his whole body arching subtly, when Vaughn’s hand pressed into the small of his back.

“Um,” Rhys said, briefly at a loss for words. “ _Yes.”_

“Then I’ll help, okay?”

Rhys nodded, and Vaughn started unfastening his shirt. Rhys’ head tilted back, further exposing the curve of his neck, the tattoos just below, the way his throat was working as he swallowed and began to breathe faster. Vaughn paused in his work to kiss the underside of his chin, then touch the curve of a coil of ink. “Easy,” he said, although he wasn’t even sure which of them he was saying it to. His own heart was hammering fit to burst. “Easy…”

He got to the bottom of the row of buttons, hoping Rhys didn’t notice how his fingers were shaking. In part to disguise that, once he tugged the tails of the shirt loose, he flattened his hands against Rhys’ stomach and slid them up to his shoulders. Rhys squirmed and sighed, moving with Vaughn now to get the shirt loose—and the help was fortunate, too, since it was growing hard to focus with Rhys’ muscles flexing like that beneath his fingers.

And then he glanced at the sleek metal arm as the silk slid away and pooled on the floor beside the bed. Vaughn caught his breath all over again.

Rhys’ new arm was a marvel. The mechanics were obviously so much more advanced, the design more sophisticated. But he could see how hard-won it was when he looked at the shoulder joint. Vaughn reached up, touching tentatively. There was visible scar tissue just beneath the connecting ring.

“Is that…” Vaughn asked, even though he already knew what had caused it. Rhys nodded slightly. He was blushing, the color high in his cheeks.

“It’s, um. Worse in the back,” he said reluctantly. 

Vaughn frowned and scooted back on the bed. Rhys looked uncomfortable, but Vaughn just shushed him. He wanted to see. Wanted _somehow_ to understand. Being told that Rhys had ripped his own arm off to save his life was one thing, but seeing it…

His hand went to the red streaks radiating from the shoulder. For a second, he couldn’t say anything.

“I damaged things pretty badly,” Rhys said roughly, his head bowed. “Then it got infected. Took a while before I could patch things up, and…well, it _should_ fade, but…”

Vaughn, distressed despite himself, asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Not like it used to. But sometimes.”

Vaughn bit his lip. “Hang on,” he said. Before Rhys could protest, he reached back to the crate sitting beside his bed. He’d wheedled a bottle of lotion out of Yvette last week—an uncommon commodity around here this days, and she’d given him a raised eyebrow about his intentions, but he’d just snapped at her about dry desert air, and she finally dropped the innuendo. It _had_ been good for the skin. It would, he hoped, be even better for this.

He tipped some of the lotion onto his fingertips, set the bottle aside, and began gently rubbing it into Rhys’ shoulder.

Rhys startled at first, but then eased down. His shoulders relaxed, his head tilted, and a long sigh moved through him. Vaughn took it as a good sign. He went on with the massage, getting both hands into it this time. Rhys was becoming so pliant under his hands, so warm…

Then something shifted, pushed that heat even higher. When Vaughn hit a particularly sensitive spot, Rhys moaned softly and arched under the touch, his motions becoming uncommonly fluid. The deep ache of arousal it awoke made it hard to think straight, but yeah, Vaughn remembered this, too. Rhys could be so gangly sometimes, almost clumsy, but at moments like this, when he was finally too in the moment to think too hard or get in his own way—God, he was _gorgeous._

And he was looking over his shoulder at Vaughn now, his ECHO eye glowing.

Vaughn had been doing his best to exercise _some_ self control, but that was absolutely _it._  

He pulled Rhys to him, the resulting kiss almost bruising, the speed of everything escalating, and they tumbled together onto the bed. Neither of them could get each other’s pants off fast enough. Vaughn’s slid easily, even over the swell of his erection, but Rhys’ were clasped and zippered and Vaughn was _sure_ he tore something trying to undo them. Rhys clearly didn’t care. He just wrestled everything down and kicked it free, and returned to Vaughn with a groan that said even that had taken too long. Pressed body to body at last, with the heated weight of Rhys’ cock unmistakable against his thigh, Vaughn had to agree.

And he’d never had such cause to regret that he didn’t have condoms or anything sensible on hand, apart from that little bottle on the bed ( _well, hah, you win, Yvette)_ , but this was already so intense that Vaughn couldn’t imagine dealing with anything more complicated than hands and mouths and _touch_ right now. Like Rhys with his hands in Vaughn’s hair, his lips seeking out skin anywhere he could reach, his hips rocking at a tantalizing pace. It felt so good. God, it felt _so good._

And Vaughn _knew_ he was going to come just from this—this shuddering, desperate closeness. When Rhys made it even more intimate by working his hand between them, slick from a hasty drop of lotion, and curling his fingers around Vaughn, he almost lost it right then. He gasped in air and tried his best to hold out. He at least wanted to last through one stroke, two, to meet that look in Rhys’ eyes as he whispered _come on_ … 

Vaughn let out a hoarse, helpless shout as it all became too much. His orgasm hit with a sudden blast of pleasure, one that wrung him out completely before letting him fade back into a long, intoxicated haze. He was still lying there lightheaded when he felt Rhys bend down for a kiss, one he returned only dazedly until he realized Rhys was still rocking his hips against him, still undeniably hard.

Vaughn took a shaky breath. He was far too wiped out now to be inventive, but he also couldn’t leave Rhys hanging. And it took a second, but he got there. With the hint of a mischievous smile returning to his face, and the reasoning that a little extra leverage wouldn’t hurt the endeavor, he reached down to Rhys’ backside for a good, firm grope.

Rhys was actually laughing when he came, which made it so, so much better.

And the first thing he said afterward, quite some time afterward, after they’d laid there tangled and sated for a while—and after Vaughn finally padded off for a cloth to clean up the worst of their mess, because he was still fastidious about _some_ things—was, “Why did we ever stop doing this?”

Vaughn chuckled ruefully, tossing the cloth aside without exactly seeing where it landed. The fastidiousness had a limit.

“Your fault,” he answered, although there was no venom in it. He settled back down at Rhys’ side and returned to rubbing little circles over the back of his wounded shoulder. Rhys still looked like he was about to protest, but he subsided, because it was true enough. “You willing to make it up to me?”

Rhys smiled sleepily. “Yeah. I can work on that.”

Vaughn went quiet. The hope that had been blossoming in his chest all night still felt dangerously sharp-edged, because he’d been here before, but…Rhys had never sounded this much like he meant it before, either. He was, in fact, tilting Vaughn’s chin to an opportune angle, then kissing him again, soft and slow like a promise. 

When he let go, Vaughn was smiling, too.

Rhys looked utterly content with that. “Good,” he murmured around a quiet yawn. Vaughn went back to the soothing gestures until Rhys’ eyes drifted the rest of the way shut. “Good…”

On the next breath, he slipped into the unmistakable patterns of sleep. Vaughn watched him a while, then smiled faintly and curled up close. He knew from the ease in Rhys’ face that no matter what complications he’d just walked back into, he’d made the right choice.

And so he stayed right there, still awake and alert for a while longer, keeping watch against any lingering nightmares or ghosts until both of them could get some rest at last.


End file.
